by Eden Connor
“Oh, God, I can’t.” Caroline’s protest fell on deaf ears. Jonny flipped her to her back, pinning her hips between his thighs.
Crawling onto the bed, I slid my hands underneath her ass. Her rich scent, thick with her arousal and a subtle touch of Caine, went straight to my head like a shot of tequila. Caine wasted no time driving inside me. My rough plunder by Colt left me swollen and tender, making each new thrust from Caine a sweet, sweet torture.
I tongued Caroline’s clit. She whimpered and moaned, fighting to close her legs, but Jonny put an end to that nonsense by shoving his hands behind her knees. Spreading her pale thighs wide, he pinned her in place with hard, stained fingers.
The sight twisted a sharp knife of pleasure deep in my guts.
When he had her immobilized, Jonny grinned at Colt and smacked his lips. “Gimme a taste of your other sister.”
“Oh, shit, can I take it?” Colt groaned, but offered the shrinking monster to Jonny, who sucked him clean with a smack of his lips. When Colt drew his fingertips down the side of Jonny’s face, my heart almost burst. The look they exchanged sent a strike of lightning to my channel, and at the same time, delivered a shot of gentle warmth to my soul.
Bet that would freak Marley right the fuck out.
Between the way Caroline writhed at every stroke of my tongue, the blistering pace Caine set, and the sparkle in Colt’s eyes, I reeled ever closer to orgasm. I battled my release, hanging on long enough to make Caroline climax again, before I lost the battle. Lifting my head to cry out, I climaxed, drawing a loud groan from Caine.
“Good mornin’.” He reached up to grip my chin after he emptied inside me. “Someone start the coffee pot,” he begged, dropping a kiss on my lips. “You bastards can lounge around half the day. I gotta get my ass to the track.”
Colt sauntered toward the small kitchen. Since he was naked as a jaybird, I crawled into Caroline’s arms to enjoy the show. Anything to stave off reality a bit longer.
Colt filled the reservoir with water and shoved the carafe into place on the coffee maker. Throwing open a cabinet door, he rooted for the filters. After he measured the coffee grounds, and punched the start button, he crossed to the table and picked up a newspaper.
“Check out the center spread in the sports section.” He thrust the paper into my hands.
“Oh, wow,” Caroline murmured, once I’d found the page.
“Hell, yeah,” Jonny crowed. “Shelby, that’s the car polish dude who came to see you.”
“Brock Ingram,” I murmured, gaping in shock at the center spread.
Bold, white letters jumped out of a black field that smeared my fingers with ink. #MakeMineHeroic filled the first two lines, with ‘heroic’ emblazoned in letters eight inches talon the second line. Below, the simple message read,
In support of the plea to NASCAR made by the family of injured crew chief Dale Hannah, we’re changing the name of our flagship product.
American Car Polish is now Heroic Car Polish.
Do the right thing, Mr. England.
#RyderIndustries supports #TeamHannah
Caroline’s arms tightened around me. “Shelby, you did it. If the sponsors get behind this, George will have to ban Barnes.”
“Colt, I challenge your ass to a duel.” Jonny wrapped his arms around Caroline, stretching to ruffle my hair.
“You’re on.” Colt pressed both hands to the counter, bending low to eyeball the slow drip of dark liquid with a scowl. The way his butt stuck out drew my eye from the newspaper. “As long as it doesn’t start until after this slow motherfucker gives me some.”
I snorted. Colt hadn’t bothered to ask what kind of duel Jonny proposed. I imagined a sword fight. With cocks. How would we keep score?
“Whatever. I gotta grab a shower.” Caine strode for the bedroom, giving me another delicious ass to ogle.
“Whoever makes Shelby come the most gets to drive the Heroic Polish car next season.” Jonny’s comment sent Caroline into peals of giggles. “And I’m gonna kick your ass from here to Sunday.”
I peered over my shoulder. Jonny stuck out his tongue, curling the tip. His dark eyes danced with wickedness.
“You’re goin’ down, sucker.” Colt straightened his elbows and scowled. “Who the fuck do you think taught Shelby to come?”
“Oh, my God.” Caroline huffed in my ear. “First, he says he taught you to drive. Now, he taught you to come? Could you pull up your own panties before you met Colt?”
“Yeah. That problem didn’t start until after I met him.”
We all burst out laughing. When the pot filled at last, Colt poured the coffee, graciously asking who wanted cream and sugar.
While I sipped mine, I read the sports section. The Charlotte paper had split yesterday’s events into three different articles. One focused on the fight and Barnes’ tendency to wreck other drivers for no gain, roundly condemning his lack of sportsmanship and calling for support of the heroic hashtag. To my surprise, the author called for Kolby to be banned from NASCAR.
The second piece dealt with the way Barnes had crashed the press conference, but the writer took the position that personal grudges had tainted Ridenhour’s seasons too often recently. He included Dale in his condemnation, making my blood boil. ‘Another grudge match won’t solve the problem, which is a lack of leadership. Ridenhour steers a rudderless ship,’ the piece concluded.
I wanted to read these stories online, where people could comment. The public’s reaction was the real story, but I’d left my phone in the back of the bus and I didn’t have the ambition retrieve it. Coffee in bed was a luxury I’d never enjoyed.
The third piece delved into the mystery of the last ‘Cuda convertible. The writer and I wanted the same thing: To see the car and have it authenticated by an expert.
A few minutes later, Caine strode out of the bedroom. Comb marks streaked his wet hair. He leaned down to kiss me. I dropped the paper and wrapped my arms around his neck. The blend of Hugo Boss, Dial soap, and damp Caine smelled even better than Colt’s fresh pot of java.
“Look.” I turned the paper around and laid it on the end of the bed.
Caine scanned the text. “Damn. George will have to kick Kolby out if the sponsors get behind this.” He met my eyes. “I turned my phone on. My voice mail’s goddamn full and I got over two hundred text messages. They all have that hashtag, by the way.”
“Oh, my Twitter feed is lit up with it,” Jonny said.
“Which one?” I groaned.
“Both,” Jonny admitted. “The industry folks—like crews and auxiliary personnel and a few sponsors I have as friends—are all re-posting the Heroic hashtag. The straight-up fans, though, are all about #TeamHannah.” He cleared his throat. “The ones that aren’t #TeamBarnes, that is.” He chuckled. “Saw a few #BanBarnes, too.”
“Yeah, that’s about how mine looks. Don’t worry, Shelby, the news hounds are keeping a tally. Are you goin’ to see Dad?” Colt swung his feet onto the banquette cushions and sipped his coffee with a contented sigh.
Caine nodded. “Yeah. Sorry if that’s cheatin’ someone out of a visit.”
“Not me.” Colt banged his cup onto the table. “I can go the rest of my damn life without seein’ Dad lookin’ like that.” His jaw worked as he looked away from my gaze.
Caine grabbed my hand and tugged me off the bed.
Wrapping me in his arms, Caine rocked from side to side. “If Dad taught me one thing, it’s to never take your foot off the gas till you cross the finish line. If waiting to take those exams later in the week means you make better grades, then wait. You graduatin’ from college is somethin’ Dad’s real proud of.”
He tangled his fingers in my hair. “Me, too. I’ve always been proud of what you did by gettin’ in that place. Even if me and Colt did send you runnin’.”
He lifted his eyes to his brother. “We will make up for that, you know.”
Colt drove two fingers through the blinds to peer out, but nodded. Was that
a touch of shame on his cheeks?
I hid my face against Caine’s shoulder. Leaving my family for any reason right now felt wrong. He raked my spine with a rough palm. “Hammer down, babe.”
“Wait for me,” I begged. “I want to go with you to see Dale.”
“Better hurry. Some of us work for a livin’.” He patted my butt. I streaked for the bedroom, grabbing an old pair of jeans and the first shirt I could lay hands on in the drawer. My urge wasn’t so much to see Dale as it was to spare Caine from having to see his father alone. I jerked the clothes on, grabbing my purse on the way out of the room. In case I saw a drink machine selling ginger ale.
“Team Hannah!” Shouts and cheers came from the road as soon as the bus doors opened. The sun wasn’t yet up, but to my surprise, people still lined the fence. The police cars were in place, but the lack of strobing lights leeched yesterday’s sense of urgency from the scene.
Security guards swarmed off the small hospital stoop, tossing cigarettes in their haste to surround us. Before they closed in, I spied new signs.
22’s no All-Star.
#BanBarnes
#MakeMineHerioc I cringed at the misspelling.
#Pray4Dale
My favorite still waved. Much love for the House of Hannah.
We made the short dash from the bus to the hospital entrance. The guards marched in silence, escorting us to the elevator. I waited until the door closed, determined to ask if all the security was necessary, but Caine cut me off before I could open my mouth.
“Got a pen?” He cocked a brow.
I dug in my purse, coming up with a black felt tip and a blue ball point. He selected the blue one. Turning toward the rear wall, he put the point to the pristine paint.
Stunned, I leaned closer. Grass cloth lined the elevator. Though the paint smelled fresh, the spongy surface bore the scars of older slurs. I squinted, trying to figure out what he was up to.
Laurajane Gordon’s a whore became Laurajane Gordon’s adorable with a few slashes. Blue ink glowed like neon against the light paint, but his heavy hand made new dents that would remain after the spot was repainted—new dents that obliterated the older marks.
He met my wide eyes with a shrug. “This has been buggin’ my ass since last night when I was standin’ here, trying to grow a set and see Dad. That’s when it hit me. Words like these killed my mother.”
You can take your foot off the gas now. I’m already in love.
“I’m goddamn lucky words like these didn’t kill you, too.” He moved to another spot. I blinked away tears while he transformed Cierra Justice sucks cock into Cierra Justice has sexy socks. Stabbing the pen into the cap, he put the barrel in my hand just as the doors opened onto the third floor.
The waiting security guard nodded in greeting. Caine stepped off the carriage, giving the man a good view of the bright blue ink. The guard’s eyes narrowed on the damage. I shoved the pen into my purse.
“When the maintenance guy arrives to clean up the tobacco juice, have him take care of that.” I stuck my nose in the air and trotted after Caine.
“Good morning, Daddy.” I ran my fingers through Dale’s waves. Silver threads that hadn’t been there the night before laced his sideburns. Two streaks of silver gleamed in the stubble on his chin, one on either side of the square jaw.
“I sure wish you could tell me what’s up with this guy from Audi.” Caine scowled, like he thought Dale might respond. “White knight or black? I know you know. You’ve always been four steps ahead of everyone else.”
He looked up at me. “Don’t let him talk you into playin’ chess. He’ll just hurt your damn feelin’s.”
“I hate chess. Robert tried to teach me. Can’t remember what piece can go which way. And don’t really care.” I checked the bedside table, hoping to find Dale’s phone, but the drawer held only a Bible. “Do you know what they did with his wallet and stuff?”
“Macy got a bag with all that in it before you got here.”
She’d have taken it home. I needed to go by there anyway, to make a list of graduation gifts and deposit any cash. I’d have nothing but time to write thank you notes once I got my exams out of the way.
I slid my hand underneath Dale’s. If I didn’t think too hard about why he was going gray, the touches gave him a distinguished air. “Good Lord, Daddy, we’re gonna have to beat the women off you with a stick.”
I felt Caine’s quizzical gaze, but he settled into the chair and talked to his father in a way I suspected they did every morning, until the nurse chased us away. Neither of us was anxious to watch him take his breakfast through a tube.
Caine stepped into the elevator first and held the doors, ignoring the hostile stare from the security guard.
“I’m taking your car, but not to the house. I want it locked down till the day of the race, unless you’re on a closed course. You can drive my truck, or I’ll rustle up something else, if it intimidates you.”
“Truck’s fine. I can start hauling stuff back.” I grinned. “And filling up your closet. What did Kolby mean about me not understanding Dale’s job?”
He poked the button to go to the first floor and pulled me close. “How about I explain that later? It’s gonna take a minute that I don’t have right now.”
God Almighty, he kissed like he detailed his truck.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I could practically see heaven from the high truck seat, but I already missed the Audi’s communication system. Groaning with annoyance, I pressed the button on Caine’s Bluetooth earpiece. “Hey, Phillip.”
“Good morning. Did I wake you?”
“Oh, no. I’m blowing past Gaffney.” I glared at the tail lights of the semi in front of me. “Okay, ‘blowing’ might be an exaggeration. What’s up?”
“Just letting you know that Kolby’s attorney hired a process server to deliver the crewman who made that video a cease-and-desist letter this morning, so he lit up my phone. Using a guy who serves divorce papers for seventy-five bucks a pop, rather than a forty-nine-cent stamp, makes it look like the letter has legal grounds, which it does not—yet. But, Barnes’ attorney has already petitioned the court to assign Kolby’s case to a judge. That’s so he can request a court order to take the video down.”
“Sorry it’s bothering him. I mean, it’s only getting about a hundred thousand hits an hour.” I whipped into the right-hand lane, hoping I could get around the damn truck, but every lane was clogged with early-morning commuters. With a sigh, I drifted left again.
“George also asked the entire crew to come in today. He knows who made the video and wants to brought along.”
“Wanna bet that George bullies whoever made it into taking it down to save Kolby’s lawyer the effort?”
Phillip laughed. “I’m way ahead of him. Last night, I copied requests from the media to use the footage off your Twitter feed. The idiots think you have it, for some reason. The guy who made it wanted me to tell you, he’s turned down any payment.”
“That’s nice of him. I bet some of them would’ve paid big bucks for it.”
“ESPN has it in hand already. I let the segment producer know the video might be tied up in litigation, but he said they plan to run with it tonight. I’m just leaving the Speedway. Jesus, think you’re in traffic?”
“That’s fantastic. About ESPN. Traffic is the devil’s tool.”
“Richard offered to hook me and Harry up for the race on Sunday. Can you believe it? He asked us to join him and his wife in their box.”
I contemplated getting off at the Boiling Springs exit and making my way down Highway 9, but resisted the urge. The reds lights would piss me off worse than the slowpokes on the interstate. “Wow, that’ll be fun.”
“Don’t be silly. We’ll be at your graduation.”
“Don’t be silly. Go to the race. Graduations are boring. Gotta go, bye.”
My emotions seethed too close to the surface. I ached to cry, but I had to agree with Caroline. I feared, once
I really let go, I’d never stop.
Crisp white trim on the older campus buildings glistened under the early-morning sunlight. Shade dappled the well-kept grounds. Flower beds brimmed with roses, but when I pulled through the front gates, the charming campus no longer felt like home. Rather, as I glimpsed the tall turrets on Wilson Hall through the oaks, it felt like my tenure here had been an extended vacation. And I, the weary tourist, was ready to go home.
I found a parking space behind the science building. While I locked the truck, my stomach growled. I had time to make a cafeteria run.
The low buzz of conversation and the scent of fresh bacon greeted me. My stomach rolled. Rather than head to the line for a hot breakfast, I grabbed a plastic tray and trotted to the pastry table. I was scanning the doughnut selection—something I could take into the exam with me—when I heard my name.
Joelle Fitzgerald met my eyes, then leaned close to the student ahead of her in line. I couldn’t tell who she spoke to, but her voice carried, despite the clatter of pots and silverware.
“Of course I saw her on television, but what’s all the drama, anyway? Her stepfather probably slipped on his own wad of tobacco. He’s lucky that young driver didn’t really kick his ass.”
Joelle smirked and turned her back. I thought about confronting her, but since arguing with a pig was a losing proposition, my only debate was whether to aim for the bitch’s head or her ass.
Ass.
I lifted the plastic tray, but before I could swing, someone behind me snatched it from my hands. Peering over my shoulder, I met the disapproving eyes of the college president.
Oh, shit.
“Assault is never the answer.” Dr. Jamison’s lips formed a taut line. My cheeks caught fire. Joelle’s trilling laughter tempted me to jump her ass anyway. “I’d think you, of all people, would know that, Miss Hannah.”
I gnawed the inside of my cheek. The dining hall was never loud this early, but the large room fell utterly silent.
